Here we go again.

HERE WE GO AGAIN BY RICK BURSKY 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 129

It’s hot. The empty sky begins to melt.

In the shade of a tree, a peregrine falcon

Is eyed nervously by a pigeon.

An old barber chuckles to himself as he searches

The backroom for bloody rags

And someone’s mother sweeps up the broken mirror.

When the sun sets, all hell will break loose.

After all, this is the end of world,

The credits are about to scroll on the clouds.

Whoever is left will have to start over —

A new pocket protector for their shirt,

A hunting rifle useless until gunpowder is invented again.

RICK BURSKY

I write my poems in a notebook with a fountain pen. Anything written with a fountain pen is automatically better than written on a computer. Of course being a poet doesn’t pay the bills in Los Angeles so I spent my working life as a copywriter in advertising. I wrote everything from newspaper and outdoor billboards to radio and television commercials. Along the way I picked up an MFA and taught as an adjunct at the Art Center College of Design and the University of Southern California. Now I teach poetry in The Writer’s Program at the UCLA Extension. I’ve published four full-length poetry collections. The most recent, titled Let’s Become a Ghost Story, is out from BOA Editions. instagram.com/rickbursky.